


The Winter Rumors are Just and True, Though

by svana_vrika



Category: Free!, Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Absence, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canadian Shack, Canon Characterization, Crossover, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, post-Tokyo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 14:02:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18251306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svana_vrika/pseuds/svana_vrika
Summary: After spending a year away completing the mentorship portion of his program, Makoto is finally going to see Haru again. But, when he gets there, things don’t quite go according to plan.





	The Winter Rumors are Just and True, Though

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Caeseria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caeseria/gifts).



> This gauntlet was thrown at me on a Friday night not so long ago, after both 'the darer' and I had imbibed a fair bit of wine. The challenge was to write a feasible _Canadian Shack_ fic, with the shack actually _in_ Canada, for MakoHaru. Wine apparently makes me very agreeable because, after a bit of _oh god_ the next morning, and a frantic review of what else [Caeseria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caeseria) and I decided had to be in there, here we are! 
> 
> Side note, the crossover was not one of the requirements. It just sort of happened that way. And it's very low-key; this is definitely a Free! MakoHaru fic!
> 
> **Disclaimer** This story is an original work of fan-fiction. The Free! franchise and its characters, props and settings are the intellectual property of Masahiro Yokotani, Kyoto Animation and Animation Do. Yuri!! on Ice and its characters, props and settings are the intellectual property of Mitsurō Kubo. I just borrowed from both for a few thousand words of entertainment. No copyright infringements are intended, and I will make no profit from their use. Work is unbetaed.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we have reached cruising altitude…” 

Makoto turned away from the window when the announcement came over the speaker, and he gave a quiet sigh of relief. It was only his second international flight, ever, and—while he wasn’t afraid, per se—he much preferred ground travel to air. He smiled a bit, a hint of wistfulness to the gesture. Then again, everything had been within a comfortable reach by train or bus back home. Even Tokyo. Perhaps that was why. 

The cabin lights dimmed, and a very accommodating attendant instantly appeared, moving from seat to seat through the cabin to check on his passengers. Makoto willingly accepted the pillow and blanket and, after politely declining a drink for the moment, he reclined his seat with another quiet sigh. His lips curved up in a slight smile as he closed his eyes. Then again, if every flight could afford him the luxury of Lufthansa first class, then he might change his mind. Makoto huffed a quiet laugh. That said, he knew that he’d likely never travel in such luxury again. It was certainly something that he’d never be able to afford on his own. He might be headed off to a career in the globally competitive swimming arena, but he was a coach, not an athlete. And even though, as a private one, his wages would be slightly higher, he didn’t have years of winnings as an athlete in his field of choice like Victor Nikiforov, his mentor-turned-friend, did to fall back on. 

Makoto’s smile curved into an affectionate grin. Even if he had, he didn’t think he’d ever be as flamboyant and carefree with his spending—or anything, really—as Victor was. This flight, for example. Makoto had assured Victor that Aeroflot would have been fine, but Victor wouldn’t have any of it. As soon as Victor had found out which airline Makoto had been scheduled to fly with, he’d placed a single, curt phone call to one of the event’s hosts, had canceled that ticket, and had booked the Lufthansa flight from St. Petersburg to Toronto for Makoto from his own budget. A parting gift, Victor had waved it off as when he’d handed Makoto the ticket and the packet he’d need once he got to Canada and, after a hug and a _Go off and get your boy!_ from Victor, he’d sent Makoto on his way. 

Makoto’s cheeks warmed as Victor’s words echoed through his head. Haru had always been his closest friend and confidant, his most important person, but to say he was Makoto’s boy… That heat deepened, but only from longing, not from the embarrassment and lack of self-confidence that had once been its source. Those things had, for the most part, ceased to be a struggle through the pursuit of his degree and his mentorship program. A lot of it had to do with his own self-discovery over those years, but lately, Haru had given him reason to hope. And his time with Victor had shown him that it was possible to turn that hope into reality. 

It had been a bit more than five years since Haru had left Iwatobi to swim for Hidaka, but Makoto could still recall the sadness he’d felt as he’d watched Haru’s train pull away. Makoto had realized his desire to coach too late to go to university in Tokyo. He’d already been enrolled in the local college; he hadn’t been a good enough student to qualify for any sort of scholarship and he wouldn’t see his parents’ money wasted due to his own insecurities and indecisiveness. His desire for Haruka was another thing altogether. He’d loved Haru for an age but, again, he’d left doing anything about it too late. By the time Nationals had been over their senior year and he and Haru had healed from their fight, their college plans had been laid. And Makoto hadn’t been willing to put a damper on Haru’s future, or risk their renewed relationship, by telling Haru he’d loved him for years. Especially since, while he’d suspected that Haru might feel something for him back, Haru had never really shown any sign that he wanted anything more than the close friendship they’d shared. 

That said, that day that he’d watched Haru leave had been a turning point for Makoto. He’d known that he couldn’t change the past, or the present results of his indecisiveness. But Makoto had also known what he’d wanted and who he’d wanted to be with, and he’d decided in that moment that he was done with the wishy-washy thoughts and behaviors. He’d find a way to have his career and Haru both, if Haru would have him, and he’d started laying his path to get it. 

Makoto had pushed himself hard to excel in his basics and, by the time he’d finished his two years, he’d had his choice of a few different scholarships in Tokyo for a coaching program. Those two years had flown as well and, when it had come time to start applying for mentorships, he’d already been a different person: more confident in himself and his abilities. More confident in his future. The only thing that hadn’t changed had been his feelings for Haru. Time hadn’t diminished their closeness. They Lined through the day, Skype-chatted most nights and met in Iwatobi or Tokyo when they could. 

One evening, as Makoto had been finalizing his packets for his mentorship applications, an interview on one of the sports channels had caught his eye. After a good hour of watching the eighteen-minute segment with Victor Nikiforov time and again, Makoto had swept the completed packets into the trash and had poured his heart and soul into a single one. To Makoto, Nikiforov was the coach who _did_ have it all: his career _and_ the love of his life and, from that moment on, nobody else would do. 

While the bulk of Makoto’s mentorship year had to be with a coach in his chosen athletic field, the last three months could be with one entirely of his choosing to allow him to work closely with someone who exhibited the same ideals he wished to incorporate into his own career. Using that determination that had fueled him so well for the past four years, Makoto had put together an application packet designed to convince Seriozha Komarov, the coach for the Russian national swimming team, to take him on as an intern. He’d even contacted Mikhail Makarovich, who was still working with Rin, for advice and to have him cast a look over his packet before submitting it. A brief smirk briefly curved Makoto’s lips as he recalled how he’d immediately been reminded of Mikhail when he and Victor had first met. 

Makoto’s hard work and determination had paid off. Komarov had accepted him. The man had been stricter and pricklier than Azuma, even, but—like Azuma—he’d truly known his craft. Beyond that, he’d known Victor, through Victor’s coach Yakov Feltsman, but also as a coach in his own right. Makoto softly laughed again. Granted, Victor hadn’t been allowed to be part of his homeland’s coaching federation as he wasn’t working with a Russian athlete, but he’d still found a way to hobnob with that rather elite group of individuals, which had both delighted and infuriated Feltsman, it had seemed, as well as had given Makoto his chance.

A warmth returned to Makoto’s cheeks as he recalled that first conversation with Victor. About four months into his mentorship, Komarov had brought Makoto along to the annual federation meeting and banquet at the Vega in Moscow. The former had been held at the attached convention center and the latter in a private dining room, but after, many of the coaches had gathered in the lobby bar to socialize and discuss their teams and favored athletes. Victor had been lounging at one of the tables, looking for all the world as if the other men had kept him waiting while they’d tended to their business. Within minutes, he had insinuated himself into the group. Most hadn’t minded. Victor was charming and charismatic, and he knew how to play a room, especially when said room was full of men who had watched him grow and mature in his sport since boyhood. 

Komarov, having known Yakov for years, was on a slightly more familiar level with Victor than most. By then, Makoto had known his mentor well enough to realize that Komarov wasn’t overly impressed by Victor’s flamboyant gregariousness, and he wasn’t surprised when, after a couple of minutes, Komarov had pushed Victor off onto him. Granted, Makoto hadn’t been expecting the opportunity to speak to Victor quite so soon, but he hadn’t minded in the least—once he’d unscrambled his brain from the rush of panic that had come when he’d realized that his chance was happening _now_. Even then he hadn’t been sure what to say, but some fruity vodka drink had helped with that and, once the conversation had opened itself up to it, Makoto had made his request; had asked Victor to be his coach for the last three months of his mentorship program. 

After that initial moment of surprise, something soft had flickered through Victor’s eyes and he’d muttered something about exploiting a weakness that Makoto hadn’t quite understood before giving him a slight smirk and telling him that he was listening. Heart racing slightly despite his determination, Makoto had laid it out on the line: his love for Haru, his desire to coach him, his want to have Victor teach him how to successfully have both. And Victor, being every bit as much of the romantic as Makoto, had accepted him on the spot. 

Five months later, Makoto had found himself in St. Petersburg and had gotten his first true taste of how over-the-top Victor’s generosity could be when Victor had insisted that Makoto stay with him and Yuri in their guestroom. Makoto had protested the kindness, but Victor had insisted that the best way to learn the balance Makoto was seeking was to experience it on both sides, meaning while on the job and away from it. Yuri had been less exuberant, but welcoming nonetheless, and Makoto would admit that it had been nice to have that bit of familiarity about him after having been away from Japan for so long. It had been the longest he’d been away from Haru, too; their schedules just didn’t mesh, and the flights had just been too long and too expensive for what short weekends they could have met up. But they’d continued their Lining and Skyping, and they were still each other’s most important person and largest source of support. And Makoto had begun to think that, for as hard as it had been, the distance might have been good for them. He had begun to see a certain light in Haru’s eyes and a wistfulness in his expression and tone when they’d part that hadn’t been there before.

By the time the first month had passed, Makoto had come to understand what Victor had meant about the balance. It was a partnership in both arenas. They each gave and took; there were no unilateral decisions, even when Victor was in his role as coach. On the days that Victor had to push harder at the rink, he let Yuri henpeck him after, and on the days when Yuri was overly stubborn—which, like Haru, he could be—he caved to Victor at home. And their love was indelibly intertwined through it all. 

With about five weeks left in his program, Makoto had been paged away from the rink to take a call. It had been Haru, and he’d felt a bit of a panic given the differences in time and that random calls had never been a thing for them. The news had been bittersweet. Azuma was retiring due to some unexpected health problems, Haru had said, and then he’d asked if, once his program was done, Makoto would take Azuma’s place at his side. Apparently, Azuma had already vouched for him to the athletic association. Actually, Haru had said in a slightly dour voice, he’d told them no other coach would do for his particular, peculiar athlete, which had made Makoto laugh, but then he’d sobered when Haru had continued on to tell him that Azuma felt so strongly about it that he was willing to wait until Makoto had finished his program before stepping down.

Makoto, of course, had agreed with alacrity and, when he’d informed Victor after returning to the rink, Victor had been almost as elated as he was. An odd gleam had run through Victor’s eyes then, one that had prompted Yuri to warily ask him what he was planning, but Victor had just waved them both away, had said he’d tell them later, and had told Yuri to get back to his routine. Makoto chuckled, a lazy one, as he was near drifting off. That had been one of the nights that Yuri had ruled the roost when they’d gone home for the evening. 

A couple of days later, Victor had finally shared his plan. Apparently, the same morning that Makoto had taken Haru’s call, Victor had received an invitation from _Sports and Athletics International Programming_ to bring Yuri to Toronto, Canada for a filming of a new sports talk-show titled _Fan Favorites of the Sporting World_. The premise of the program was to highlight athletes from any corner of the sporting world, chosen by social media vote, and the sponsors were planning on using big names in their debut to hook their audience. Yuri had been invited to be part of the premier since, while Canada’s top skater was popular amongst the local fans, Yuri was more renowned on a global scale, and the show was to be aired as part of the 2020 Olympics promotion. And Victor had decided, in his extra way, that it would be the perfect debut for Makoto’s coaching career. 

Needless to say, the sponsors had been more than happy to include another athlete from the country hosting the 2020 event, especially since Haru’s name had become as recognizable as Yuri’s in his particular arena. Skate Canada had thrown a minor pout, Victor had said, as they’d been hoping that their ace skater might share the stage with Yuri, but they had been appeased when the sponsors had offered their candidate a position of co-host instead. Victor’s expression had turned somewhat dour with that bit, as had Yuri’s, which had made Makoto curious since they both seemed to get on well enough with just about everybody, but they hadn’t shared, and he hadn’t thought it was his position to ask. 

Things had gotten a bit harried after Victor’s announcement. It had been Makoto’s turn to phone Haru and inform him of Victor’s plan, and then, leaving it up to Victor to inform the sponsors of their acceptance, he’d had to begin work on scheduling his certification exam as soon as Victor signed off on him, as there’d only been a handful of days in between the end of his mentorship program and the interview. Fortunately, the testing was primarily online and, as for the practical, Komarov had come to St. Petersburg to sign off on him. Makoto’s lips curved up again as his mind quieted enough to let him drift off. It had been a stressful rush, but it had been worth it. He’d passed well above the necessary points and, in just a few hours, he’d finally be back with Haru. 

At some point later, a quiet, but insistent, voice outside of his curtain called for him and, blinking blearily, Makoto ran a hand over his face and slid it open. “We’ll be making our descent into Pearson in half an hour, Sir,” the attendant informed him with a polite smile. “In case you wanted a chance to freshen up.” 

“Half—” Makoto’s eyes went wide and then he brought his arm up to look at his watch. 

The attendant softly laughed. “Mm, that’s right. You’ve slept most of the flight away—though with the eight-hour time difference between St. Petersburg and Toronto, that might not have been a bad thing.” 

Makoto gave a sheepish chuckle and nod, then thanked the man and got up. Fully awake now, his entire being seemed to lowly thrum with anticipation. In just a couple of hours, he’d be seeing Haru’s face, hearing his voice, in person for the first time in over a year. He just hoped he could contain himself from doing anything embarrassing. 

The descent into the airport went without incident and Makoto found another reason to be grateful for Victor’s gift of the first-class seat: they got to deplane first and without the jostling he’d always experienced in coach. By the time he’d collected his luggage, he only had a half an hour to wait, and he swore it was the longest half an hour he’d ever lived through. Especially when it was an additional fifteen minutes after that before Haru’s flight arrival was announced. Eventually, however, a new group of people began filtering into the area and Makoto’s heart sped up—and then everything stopped for a second when, _finally,_ he caught sight of Haru on the escalator. A split second later, Haru found him, and the way Haru smiled, god, Makoto thought his heart might break from it even though he knew he was smiling in the same way. 

Somehow, Makoto managed to stay in place, even though everything in him was pushing him to go to Haru. Likely because he didn’t know if he’d be able to keep himself from pulling Haru to him, he thought, or from kissing him right there in the airport if he wasn’t able to resist the first. And neither would be appropriate in such a public place, even if they had been in that sort of relationship—despite what Victor might say, he thought with a wry, affectionate smile. And then Haru was closing the distance between them and that was all he could think about again.

For the first couple of seconds, they merely looked at each other, and it did strange things to Makoto’s heart, knowing that Haru had been waiting for this as much as he had, to where—now that they were together again—it almost felt unreal. “Tadaima, Makoto,” Haru finally said quietly, and Makoto felt a slight prickling in his eyes with the enormity of those two words and what Haru was telling him. It didn’t matter that they were thousands of miles from Japan this time. Haru was home because Haru was with _him_. 

“Okaeri, Haru,” Makoto returned softly, and then, after another second or two of just holding Haru’s eyes, he blinked and lightly cleared his throat. “Let’s go get the car, ne?” 

“Mm.” 

Neither of them said much between baggage and the rental terminal. For Makoto, it was enough simply feeling Haru’s presence with him again. Once they reached the Nalamo desk, Makoto pulled the packet of information from his carry-on and, after providing the teller his confirmation number, Makoto handed the printout with directions to Haru. After signing the paperwork, Makoto got behind the wheel and, while Haru programmed the GPS, Makoto familiarized himself with the dash and console. A soft laugh slid past his lips and he glanced sidelong at Haru when he felt Haru look at him in question. “Just thinking about how nervous I was to even drive in Iwatobi, and now I think it will be odd, at first, going back to its sleepy traffic and driving on the left-hand side of the road. Though I still don’t know about driving in Tokyo,” he admitted as he pulled out of the slip and into the line of traffic exiting the parking garage. “At least Toronto is about the same size as St. Petersburg—and St. Petersburg got me a bit more used to driving in this,” he said wryly as he turned on the wipers to accommodate for the snow that had just started to fall. 

“You didn’t know? About the snow?” Haru elaborated when Makoto gave him a sidelong look in question. Before Makoto could answer, Haru softly snickered. “You slept the whole leg from Frankfurt to Toronto, didn’t you,” he stated rather than asked, and Makoto’s face grew warm. 

“You know I always get sleepy when I travel.” 

“It was eight hours, Makoto.” 

“Haruka is mean.” 

“I’m glad.” Makoto turned a surprised look to Haru as they waited for the light to turn. Haruka’s cheeks tinged and he looked away—and Makoto’s heart melted at the sweet, familiar gesture. “I’m glad Makoto is still Makoto even with everything that’s changed.” 

“Haru.” Ignoring the flicker of nerves that rose and recalling Victor’s advice to be bold, Makoto briefly dropped his hand from the wheel to cover the one that rested on Haru’s nearest thigh; lightly squeezed it and smiled when Haru looked up at him in surprise. “I’m glad my Haru-chan hasn’t changed either.” And he chuckled when that color in Haru’s cheeks deepened and he turned away again. 

“Be quiet, Makoto,” he chastised in a mutter. “And stop calling me that.” 

“Yes, yes,” Makoto placated with another soft laugh, but the apology that habitually followed was silenced when Haru turned his hand beneath Makoto’s and laced their fingers together. It only lasted a second or two; the light changed and Haru let him have his hand again. But it had been enough to make Makoto feel confident that he’d be successful in this half of his plan as well, even if his absence had done more to bring him and Haru to this point than Victor’s tutelage had. 

Silence fell between the two of them again, but it was comfortable. And, after a half an hour or so, Makoto was glad for the quiet. Traffic had only gotten thicker and the snow was _not_ letting up; he didn’t know whether to be anxious or glad when the GPS told him to exit onto highway 10. On one hand, he figured the traffic would be lighter but, on the other, he knew the minor roadways tended to be less lit, and tended to, than the major. His brow furrowed slightly. Beyond that, he really would have thought they’d be seeing more cityscape instead of less. “Ne, Haru, can you check how far the airport was from downtown?” 

“About half an hour,” Haru replied after the few seconds it took him to do the search on his phone. 

Makoto nodded. He wasn’t so worried about that then, given how heavy the traffic had been for a while. “And Caledon?” he asked after another few minutes had passed and the headlights picked up the name from a sign. 

“Caledon?” 

“Mm.” 

“Makoto, are you sure?” 

Makoto’s brow furrowed slightly when he caught Haru’s tone. “Pretty? I mean the snow’s coming down good, but I’m almost positive that’s what the sign said.” 

“Makoto, Caledon’s in the opposite direction as Toronto.” 

“What?” Makoto’s grip tightened on the wheel when Haru repeated himself and then, after a second or two, he moistened his lower lip. “Ne, Haru—” 

“I just double checked. I entered the right address.” 

“Ok. Thank you, Haru.” Makoto gave a slight smile that he didn’t really feel. “Maybe I did read the sign wrong then.” That said, when the next instruction the GPS gave was to exit onto 12 toward Caledon, Makoto knew that, somehow, they’d ended up lost. “Haru, what should we do?” he asked in the same sort of plaintive way he’d used to when they’d been boys, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t understand, and they were so far away from where they were supposed to have been. It wasn’t like they were isolated or anything; there was still some traffic and plenty of buildings. But the heavy snow and just the fact that they were lost even though they’d done everything right—

“Makoto.” The call of his name came with a light touch to his arm and Makoto snuck a quick glance down at Haru. “It’ll be alright. Just keep going.” 

Makoto managed a small smile and nodded. “Mm.” 

By the time the GPS announced their last turn, the buildings and traffic had been left behind and another forty-five minutes had passed. The last street with any signage Makoto recalled having seen had been a road called Horseshoe Hill and, that had been a fair while back. A gust of wind came across the road and Makoto’s hands tightened on the wheel as he was momentarily blinded by the snow it kicked up in front of him. Once he could see again, he sighed in relief and then glanced down at the display to see how much further they had, only to have it fade to an eerie black and grey grid as he noted the six kilometers remaining. “Does your phone still have a signal, Haru?”

“No. It went out about a minute before the GPS dropped.” 

“Ah.” 

“It will be alright.” Makoto glanced sidelong at Haru. “I’ll mark the time and keep an eye out. You focus on driving.” 

“Mm.” 

It seemed like forever before Haru spoke again, telling him they should be close. Not more than a minute later, Haru told him to stop. Makoto carefully applied the brake and then felt himself pale slightly when the car’s brake system kicked in anyway to bring them to a jerky halt. “Sorry,” he murmured and then he nodded when Haru asked him to pull up just a little bit further. “Haru!” he exclaimed in surprise when, once he’d stopped again, Haru opened the window, and he watched, mouth slightly agape as Haru stuck his head, and phone, out into the storm. “Haru, what are you—” 

“I thought I saw a sign, but I wasn’t sure,” Haru explained as he pulled back in, and he used the back of his hand to wipe a rivulet of melting snow from his cheek as it trailed from his hair. “We’re here. It looks like the entrance is just past the sign, about ten meters ahead.” 

Makoto nodded. “Okay. Thank you, Haru.” Trying not to focus too much on the _looks like_ , Makoto went forward again and held his breath when he turned into what he hoped was the driveway. A second or two later, once the vehicle _didn’t_ end up in a ditch or hit anything, Makoto quietly released it. He couldn’t see the building but, right then, he couldn’t bring himself to care. They were off the road, at least. 

And then the front end of the vehicle took a sharp dip down with no warning. 

“Oh crap!” Makoto blurted, his eyes going wide, every driving lesson he’d had flooding into his head, and he tried to think if he was supposed to turn, or brake, or gas it. As the car rocked up, he saw trees up ahead and his foot then went to the brake without further thought. There was a sickening moment or two when the rear of the vehicle slid haphazardly to the left, but then, finally, they came to a stop with no further incident. “Haru?” 

“Makoto, I’m okay.” 

Makoto loosed a shaky breath and, after putting the car into park, dropped his hands from the wheel, lightly curling his fingers inward against the trembling. “Thank goodness.” He took another breath, this one a bit steadier. “Haru, can you see _anything_ from your window?” He winced and softly hissed when as Haru lowered the glass, the wind and snow whipped in, and he felt so bad for Haru, but at the moment, he didn’t know what else to do. His eyes drifted to the fuel gauge. With what they had, it likely wouldn’t get them through the night, even with only letting it run for short periods of time. And, as the wind gusted through Haru’s window again, he suddenly found himself very angry with whomever had messed this up for them so badly. 

“I see something.” Makoto looked up at him as he slid back down and put his window up again. “It wasn’t much, just a quick glint of the light from my phone, but it might have been glass.” 

Makoto nodded and, as Haru ran his sleeve over his face to dry it, he told Haru about the fuel situation. “I think,” he said slowly after, and then he paused and drew his lower lip in as he gave it a final thought. “I think our best bet is going to be to get to the—” he stopped, then gave a frustrated laugh. “Whatever it is they’ve sent us off to instead of our hotel.” He sobered again. “You stay here, Haru. I’ll go find out.” 

“No.”

“Haru!” 

“Makoto, no!” Makoto’s eyes widened slightly at the sharpness to Haru’s tone. “You want to keep me safe, you don’t want me to get sick, I’ve got the interview and next week’s meet to think of; whatever logic you were going to use, just no. Anything could happen to you, too, if you go out there alone, and I won’t let you risk it. Besides,” he continued before Makoto could react, “You’re not my coach until after the interview tomorrow. I don’t have to listen to you until then.” 

Makoto blinked at the unexpected turn and then snorted his amusement. “I’ve seen how you are with Azuma-san, Haru. You wouldn’t have listened even then.” 

“I listen. I only question him when what he’s telling me doesn’t make any sense.” 

Makoto’s lip curved up slightly at the barb in Haru’s point, recalling instances when Yuri had exhibited the same sort of stubborn petulance to Victor. “You mean when you don’t like what you’re hearing,” he teased, and he chuckled when Haru murmured his name in warning, though he sobered when he noted the tension with which Haru held himself. Haru hated to argue as much as he did, but Makoto could tell he was willing to on this point. There would be times to push and times to let go, both personally and professionally, he’d learned during his time in St Petersburg, and Makoto knew that, this time, it was the latter. Especially since he also knew that Haru would follow him anyway. “Haru,” he called, and Haru tensed further, as if expecting more argument. Sighing quietly, Makoto reached over and touched his cheek to shock Haru’s eyes back to him. His lips pressed softly when he felt the damp chill of his skin despite the car’s heater. “Alright,” he said simply as their eyes met. “We’ll go together.” And he could see the tension drain from Haru’s posture as Haru nodded. 

Decision made, Makoto turned off the car and then he glanced at Haru. “Ready?” He nodded when Haru did again and then he opened his door. His eyes instantly went wide with the force of the wind trying to close it on him again. “Oh!” he blurted, and then he set his teeth and pushed the door back out again; somehow, he managed to get out and out of the way in time before the wind slammed it shut again. “Haru!” he called out over the wind, hoping like anything that the car had blocked enough of it so that Haru had gotten out safely, and he made his way as quickly as he could around the vehicle, wading through snow that was already up to the tops of his calves. 

As Makoto came around to the trunk, Haru appeared from the other side. Haru was struggling more than he was between the pitch of the car and their differences in height, and Makoto reached out for him, his fingers already slightly numb as they closed around Haru’s and he pulled Haru to his side. “Which way?” 

“Ahead to the right.” 

Makoto nodded and tightened his fingers through Haru’s. “Don’t let go,” he blurted as the anxiety and fear he’d been fighting rose within him, driven to the surface by the severity of the absolute mess they were in and then, bringing his other arm up to try and shield his face, he took off in the direction Haru had indicated. He couldn’t even keep track of how far they walked, or even if they were still walking the right way, for how the wind and snow swirled around them, but they must have been because, after what felt like forever, a structure of sorts loomed out of nowhere and right in front of his face. 

At that point, Makoto didn’t care what it was, he was just glad that they’d made it. Dropping his arm, he put his hand to the wall and let the structure guide him. Once they rounded the first corner, the structure shielded them a bit, and he breathed a sigh of relief, only to give a yelp of surprise when he kicked something hard in the snow and nearly went over. 

“Makoto!”

Makoto took a stumbling step back from the force with which Haru jerked him, but he managed to keep upright. “I’m okay,” he assured, though he was thankful that his feet were too numb to have felt that! He squinted slightly and looked forward again, then bent toward Haru once more. “I think there’s a door up ahead,” he shared and, after telling Haru to mind the porch, he took the step up and moved forward again. After about half of a meter, they were there, but the relief that flared died a quick death when a turn of the knob found it locked. Makoto’s lips pressed. They needed shelter. He was numb and soaked and shivering and he knew that Haru was too. So, he’d do what he needed. 

Quietly murmuring an, “Excuse the intrusion,” and swallowing down the worry and fear that wanted to claw at him over the myriad possible outcomes of what he was about to do, Makoto turned the knob to the left and, bracing himself, put his shoulder to the door and pushed against it. A brow arched in surprise and, changing tacks a bit, he used the handle and his weight to push up slightly as well, and he blurted a laugh when the door actually opened. He never would have thought that the door to some Canadian shack thousands of miles away would have the same particular quirk as the entry to Haru’s second story back in Iwatobi. 

Once inside, Makoto drew Haru in after him and then closed the door against the sound of the storm. “Hello?” he called out through the almost unnatural silence, and then he mentally facepalmed and repeated the greeting in English. “We’re not here to hurt anyone,” he continued, grateful that his skill had improved dramatically during his year in Russia. “We’re stranded and we need shelter!” Holding his breath, Makoto listened for even the slightest sound and, when he didn’t hear anything, he felt along for a light switch. Not finding one, he took a step further in, and then gasped a cry when something brushed along his cheek.

“Makoto,” Haru called as Makoto batted it—whatever it was—away as he cringed away from it. A second later, a soft click echoed through the little room and Makoto opened his eyes, followed Haru’s arm up, and realized it was the pull chain for a light—even though no light had come on.

“Oh,” he said sheepishly, feeling pretty stupid, but Haru just shook his head. 

“Don’t. It would have caught me off-guard, too.” 

Makoto nodded, then lightly squeezed Haru’s hand to thank him. Eyes a bit more accustomed to the dark, especially without the visual distortion of the snow, Makoto narrowed them and glanced around. There was another door in the wall to his right and a small shelf to the right of that. Eyes narrowing further, he went to it and then smiled when he realized he’d been right. There was a flashlight there, and he gave a soft, “Aha!” when it turned on when he tried. 

Not feeling a need to call out again, Makoto opened the second door and stepped in. His nose wrinkled slightly at the shut-in smell, and then he gave a sharp squeak and a small jump back when a pair of eyes caught in the light from high up. “There’s something in there,” he whispered when Haru sighed his _what now_ sigh. 

Haru silently held out his hand and Makoto handed him the flashlight, letting Haru take a step ahead of him. Cautiously, he peered over Haru’s head as Haru sent the beam of light back that way, and then he sighed in relief when he saw that all it had been was a mounted moose head on the wall. “Poor thing,” he murmured under his breath as Haru swept the light through the room. There was a bed in one corner, and a sofa and ridiculously small television set up in another. A fireplace was cut into the wall between the two and the opposite wall had been partitioned into an ancient-looking kitchenette and a small room he assumed was the toilet. The whole space was dusty and musty but, beyond that, it seemed fairly clean; more importantly, the roof appeared to be sound and there was a small stack of wood by the fireplace. 

“Thank goodness,” Makoto sighed as they stepped in, and then he turned to Haru. “It’s not the cleanest, but we’ll be out of the weather at least, and warm if they have something to start a fire with.” His gaze softened as he saw Haru trying not to shiver and looking more pathetic than he’d seen him in years. Unwanted memories briefly drifted to the surface and, for a moment, Makoto’s own shivers became more pronounced. “Come on,” he said after a discreet breath and, taking the flashlight back, he lightly tugged Haru’s hand with his other. “Let’s see what they have, ne?” 

Together, the two of them went over to the fireplace, and Makoto sighed in relief when they found another flashlight and a box of long matches on the mantle. “That’s a good sign,” he said with a smile and, after passing of the second torch to Haru, he stooped to check out the wood. His lips pressed slightly. There wasn’t a lot; Makoto figured maybe enough to take the chill from the room and last part through the night if they banked it right, but at least there was kindling, and he did smile a bit again when he found several pages from a newspaper called the _Toronto Star_ slid behind the log rack “Good. We have all we need,” he told Haru, and he quickly set about building the fire. He had a wistful moment of missing his dad as he laid the foundation as he’d been taught; the thought led to others of his younger years and camping trips and Haru, and a satisfied smile briefly showed on his lips as he put the match to the paper. His whole life growing up, Haru had taken care of him and had watched out for him. It felt _good_ to be the one doing those things for Haru for a change. 

As the paper caught and spread to the kindling, Makoto felt Haru crouch beside him. “I always liked that part when I’d come camping with you and your family,” he said quietly as Makoto leaned forward to blow on the flames a bit, and Makoto’s heart warmed. There weren’t words for how he’d missed this part of their connection, how they could read each other so well—or for how glad he was that the time apart and reliance on electronic communication hadn’t diminished that. “The fire and sitting around it, listening to the ocean’s waves and its crackle meet,” Haru, continued, and then a soft smile curved Haru’s lips. “I remember the first time we tried to start one.” 

“I couldn’t get the wood to stand and I was so frustrated!” Makoto reminisced with a laugh. 

“Mm. And then you pouted when, after your dad showed us, he knocked his pyramid down and made us try again.” 

“Haru! I didn’t pout! For long,” he corrected with a laugh when Haru called him out with an arch of his brow.

“Only because I got the wood to stand.”

“Haru!” Makoto blurted with a laugh. “It fell as soon as I tried to light the starter!” 

“I don’t remember that.” 

Makoto laughed again and something beautiful flickered through Haru’s eyes that warmed him again; after a second or two, he lightly cleared his throat and broke his stare; turned his attention back to the fire. He leaned forward and blew on it a bit again, then settled back when it spread toward the rear wall of the fireplace and caught the kindling there. “Good,” he said a second or two later when the flames started licking at the inside of the pyramid. He straightened then and offered Haru his hand. “Come on. Let’s see what else got left, ne? Haru?”

Haru shook his head with a soft, negatory sound as he slid his fingers into Makoto’s. “I figured you’d push me to stay in front of the fire,” he explained away his surprise as he stood, and Makoto laughed. 

“Mm. And you would have argued, telling me that I’m just as wet and cold as you and, by then, we could have had the place half looked through,” he returned, and he chuckled softly when Haru looked away again. “My Haru-chan is cute when I’m right,” he teased and, lightly touching Haru’s cheek, Makoto drew his gaze back over. _Be bold_ , Victor’s voice echoed again and, giving into temptation, Makoto dipped his head. Pausing just briefly to give Haru the chance to turn his away, Makoto closed that last bit of distance and kissed him softly, that bit of anxiousness easing even as his breaths slightly sped when Haru brought his fingers up to touch his cheek in turn, and then his hair. “Haruka,” he murmured when they parted several seconds later, and he turned his head to lightly kiss the hand that had slid back down to his cheek. “Haru-chan’s kiss is better than the fire,” he confessed as he turned forward again, and that warmth strengthened and shifted toward something more urgent when the color in Haru’s cheeks deepened. 

“Makoto is ridiculous,” Haru muttered, even as his lips curved, and he dropped his hand to lightly push at Makoto’s chest. “Go look over there.”

Makoto laughed, soft and happy, as he nodded and dropped his hand. Haru arched a brow, his lips curving slightly higher. “What?” Makoto asked, lightly catching Haru’s wrist before Haru could step away. 

Haru shook his head. “Nothing. You’ve just always acted like that, like my bossing you around is some wonderful thing.” Color rose in Haru’s cheeks again, but he didn’t turn his head. “I’ve missed it.” 

Makoto smiled. “I’ve missed it too, you bossing me around,” he said with a playful wrinkle of his nose, and then he laughed when Haru did turn his head away this time. “I’ve never minded,” he admitted as he let Haru go. “We’re us, and it’s just how we are. But that’s not why I’m so happy. I mean, it’s part of it,” he quickly corrected, as he moved over toward the sitting area. “But—” 

“Makoto.” 

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologized with another little laugh, then he turned to look over his shoulder at Haru, who was looking under the bed. “It was our first kiss,” he explained, and then the corner of his mouth lifted just a bit. “Though I never would have thought it’d happen someplace like this.” 

“Where doesn’t matter.”

“Mm,” Makoto agreed, nose wrinkling as he got a close-up view of how manky the couch really was, and a light shiver ran through him when he saw what appeared to be chew holes in the gaudy, yarn-crafted blanket that had been left draped over the back.

“Makoto.” 

“Hm?” he glanced in Haru’s direction as he crouched in front of the low table next. 

“Finally getting to kiss Makoto made me happy, too.” 

Happiness rushed through Makoto and he couldn’t help but laugh again. “I’m glad,” he replied, and then he couldn’t help but tease, “Finally, hm?” 

“Be quiet.” 

Makoto chuckled softly. “I’ve wanted Haruka’s kiss for a long time, too,” he shared as he tugged open the table’s left door. “VHS tapes!” he mused in disbelief. “ _Scott Pilgrim vs. the World_ , _Les Boys_ , _Makenzie Brothers_ … There’s a player, too,” he added after shining the flashlight at the television stand. “Too bad there’s no power, or we could try watching them, Haru!” Makoto snickered at the flat silence between them. “You’re glad there isn’t now, aren’t you.” 

“Maybe. But you know I would have watched them with you if there had been.” 

Makoto’s smile widened. “I know,” he said softly. “What’d you find?” he asked as he took a crouched step to the right to open the other door. “Oh,” he said under his breath when it came off in his hand from where he’d had to tug it a bit harder due to the warping. 

“Bedding,” Makoto’s gaze leapt up and he shone his light over and he was torn between laughing and feeling bad for how utterly dirty Haru looked, the dust from the floor having clung eagerly to his damp skin and wet clothing. “The tote was shoved clear back under the far corner of the headboard. I’m not surprised whoever missed it.” 

“And the mattress?” 

Haru pursed his lips in a disgusted moue and shook his head. 

“Same with the couch,” Makoto shared and then he shone his light into the cabinet again. “There’s a couple of those ugly yarn blankets in here though, and some magaz—oh.” Makoto’s face rushed with color as the light picked up on a very busty female whose only bit of modesty was the way her arms were positioned over her breasts and he hurriedly shoved the several copies of _Summum_ back into the cabinet space. “Be quiet, Haruka,” he admonished as Haru’s knowing snicker came from across the room, and he quickly snagged the blankets, then straightened, turning his back on the magazines as they slid out to arc across the floor. Taking his contribution to the stack Haru had started, Makoto then crouched to shift the wood in the fire, his eyes going back to the pile of linens as he straightened. “There should be enough to put down on the floor and then cover up with,” he quietly observed, and then his eyes sought out Haru’s. “But Haru, I know the wood won’t last through ‘til morning.” 

Haru’s eyes shifted to the wood, and then after a moment, he nodded. “Good thing we like each other then,” he said as his gaze went back to the fire. His tone was dry, but Makoto could see the slight curve to his lips that told he was teasing, and he smiled as well. 

“Mm. At least well enough to make it through until I can look for more wood in the morning.” 

Haru’s lips curved up higher. “You’re still really bad at that,” he declared in more obvious amusement of Makoto’s deadpan, and Makoto laughed, unable to even try and pretend to be offended. 

“I know.” Makoto joined him in the kitchen, watched him close the doors on the empty cupboards over the cooktop. The area under the sink was completely bare too, save for a couple of rags and some dish detergent—and what looked suspiciously like droppings, though Makoto didn’t dare dwell too long on _that_ —and then he straightened, leaving the last lower cabinet to Haru as he took the upper. His nose wrinkled slightly when he opened it and found there was still foodstuffs in there. Nothing looked rotten or stank, but it was clear that what was there had been for a while—and he didn’t know whether to be impressed or disgusted when he saw that that the bag of _nacho cheese Doritos_ was only a couple days past its expiry date. 

With a quiet sigh, he grabbed it, then gave Haru a small smile as Haru straightened with a single bottle of water, two cans of Molson’s beer and a pop-top can of bean and bacon soup. “At least it’s something?” he offered as they headed back to the fire, and his eyes softened when Haru merely nodded. He looked so vulnerable right then, skin pale beneath the dirt, cold and tired and just _done_ , and Makoto’s lips lightly pressed as he reached for a couple more pieces of wood. “Stoke the fire, Haru, then add this. I’m going to check that little foyer room again.” 

Not giving Haru time to argue, Makoto headed across to the door. Just after stepping out, a gust of wind blew hard enough to rattle the single window, and then the next thing Makoto knew the glass was shattering. Eyes closed on instinct and then he cried out when he felt the room shake and a sharp sting of something scraping along his right cheek and then lightly hitting his shoulder. 

“Makoto!” 

“Haruka, stay there!” Makoto commanded in as stern of a tone as he could muster despite how shaken he felt, and then he cautiously opened his eyes, which promptly widened when he saw a large branch of a tree penetrating through the broken glass. “The wind brought a tree down and it came through the window,” he called in. “I’m alright. Just stay put. I’ll be right in.” Shining his light the best he could around the small area that was now filled with the tree, Makoto stopped it when he saw what he wanted, and then his lips pressed. It figured it’d be on the opposite side of the branches and damage. Eyes narrowed in thought for a moment or two, and then he started snapping off the branches in his way. A slight smile showed as he worked through to the thicker ones. The tree was dead, which is likely why it had come down. It wasn’t a lot, but a bit of time in front of the fire to dry the surface damp from the snow and what he was breaking off would burn for them. 

Eventually the pieces became too big for Makoto to snap through but, by then, he was able to shimmy close to the bole and then hoist himself a bit to reach the bucket he’d found. He sighed in relief when he found it empty save for the fireplace shovel. Easing himself back over the tree with it, he then went to the outer door and, setting his teeth, stepped back out into the storm, washed the bucket out as good as he could with a couple hands full of snow, and then packed as much clean snow as he could into it before heading inside and then setting the bucket in front of the fire. Haru’s lips parted when Makoto turned again but Makoto just held up a finger, knowing that, if he tried to talk, his teeth would chatter out of his head. One last trip back out to the foyer and, with a sharp jerk, he pulled the shelf from its brackets, then loaded his arms up with that and the branches he’d broken off of the tree. 

As Makoto closed the door behind him, another gust of wind rattled through the foyer, and Makoto couldn’t hide his shivering anymore when the broken window siphoned it through every crevasse around the door between the foyer and the main room. Dropping his load of wood, he hurried over to the couch, and, not caring too much anymore what might be on it, he grabbed the blanket from the back rolling it as he took it over to the door to shove it up against the threshold where the largest gap was. One last trip was made to the sitting area and, after snapping off the other door to the console, Makoto took them both, plus the magazines, over to the fireplace and then, finally, he sat. “There,” he said through chattering teeth as he held his hands to the flames, pain causing his eyes to tense as the numbness faded into a very uncomfortable prickle. Setting his jaw against it, he leaned over and looked at the bucket. “Ne, Haru, go get the rags from under the sink, please? By the time the water gets warm enough to wash with, the bucket’s handle will be too hot,” he explained when he felt Haru’s question against the side of his head, and then, after another second or two, he pulled his hands back and grabbed one of the doors from the console and, eyes narrowing slightly, snapped it in two. 

By the time Haru came back, Makoto was working on breaking up the shelf. He glanced over at Haru as he sat back down. “This pressboard’s going to burn fast, but with the magazines, it should burn hot, and long enough for you to strip down and wash up.” His brow furrowed softly. “I know it’s not a tub like you’re used to before bed, but you’ll be clean _ish_ at le—” He stopped in surprise and turned his head when Haru cupped his cheek, but before Makoto could ask, Haru was kissing him, lips moving over his own like they’d been kissing for years instead of only just having had their first. Makoto’s breath caught with the want it pushed through him and he tipped his head slightly to deepen it; Haru’s lips parted and, as another wave of warmth ran through his body, Makoto slid his tongue into the wetness of Haru’s mouth to lick over Haru’s. Haru groaned softly, the sound shooting through Makoto and to his gut, and then lower when Haru stroked over his tongue in turn before pulling away. 

“Makoto is an idiot for going out in that mess just so that I could have water,” Haru murmured, and then he opened his eyes and tipped them up to Makoto’s. “I love you.” 

Makoto blinked and then a soft, wide smile chased away the sheepish one that had risen. “Haru.” Makoto laughed, the slightest hint of a sting in his eyes, and he brought his forehead to rest against Haru’s. “I love Haruka, too. Haru?” he asked a second later when he saw worry rise in Haru’s eyes. 

“You’re hurt,” Haru said quietly, fingers lightly touching the opposite cheek, and with a wince, Makoto remembered the scratches. 

“Some of the outer branches caught me when the tree came crashing in, but I forgot,” he said apologetically, and Haru nodded, then grabbed one of the sheets he’d found and tore a length from it. He watched as Haru carefully tested the water from the bucket and then tore a chunk from the length and dipped it in, and then his eyes closed as Haru brought the cloth up to gently wipe at the wounds. 

“They’re not deep, thank goodness,” Haru murmured as he cleansed them and, once he’d finished, he leaned up and pressed a kiss just above them, near Makoto’s eye. “I’ll take care of them properly once we’re out of here,” Haru promised. 

“Mm. Thank you, Haru.” Makoto lightly rubbed his nose over Haru’s and then went back to busting up the shelf; by the time he was done, there was steam rising from the water. Using the rags Haru had brought, Makoto moved the bucket back and then, after tearing one of the magazines into sections, he added that and the pressboard pieces to the fire. “Okay, Haru.” 

As Haru stood, Makoto took the cloth Haru had used to clean his face and did the best he could at wiping his hands off with it. Turning slightly and pushing to his knees, Makoto pivoted toward the bedding, only to pause part way as he caught sight of the firelight playing over Haru’s skin as he undressed. He swallowed against the sudden dryness in his mouth and then made himself look away and get started on making up the best pallet he could, putting the thickest two blankets against the floor and then covering them with a sheet before layering what was left on top for them to get beneath. 

Once Makoto finished he stood and then, lightly tapping his fingertip against his lip, went back to the sitting area and dragged what was left of the console over toward the fire. “To lay our clothes over,” he explained when Haru looked at him in question and, as Haru finished up, Makoto tended to his pile, shaking out what dirt he could before spreading his clothing and jacket out. By the time he’d finished, the pressboard had already nearly burned out and he took a second to poke the wood around before laying a couple more heavier pieces onto it as Haru slid beneath the blankets. 

The heat that had been pushed out by the rapid fire had already retracted back to just a few inches in front of the fireplace and Makoto shivered as his skin was exposed as he hurriedly undressed and then laid his coat and clothing alongside Haru’s. Goosebumps on his flesh, Makoto took the last piece of sheet Haru had torn to wash with; fortunately, the water was still fairly warm, but Makoto’s skin seemed to cool more rapidly because of it and, by the time he crouched to crawl under the covers next to Haru, he was shivering again. 

Once he was there, Makoto lay as still as he could, doing his best to make himself as small as possible so as to not chill Haru again, but then Haru backed against him, his body soft and warm. With a soft sigh, Makoto rolled up onto his side and, draping an arm over Haru’s waist, accepted the heat and comfort that was being offered. “Thank you, Haru,” he murmured against Haru’s hair when, after several seconds had passed, the shivering had abated. “Haru?” he called in question when he heard the soft, negatory sound. 

“Thank _you_. For getting us someplace safe and for taking care of me,” Haru said quietly before Makoto could ask. “This sucks and is scary, but you didn’t hesitate. You just did what needed to be done and made sure we’d both be okay. Makoto is strong and brave,” he said in an even quieter tone, and Makoto could feel the warmth from those words to his core.

“Haru.” He laughed softly then. “Even when the light pull and the moose scared me?” He felt, more than heard, Haru’s soft chuff of a laugh. 

“Mm. Even then. Because those things are Makoto, too, and I’m glad you’ve not changed _too_ much. Glad that we’re still us,” he said with a smile in his voice as he spoke Makoto’s words from before. “I still want to strangle whomever was responsible for our arrangements though.” 

“Somebody named Leroy,” Makoto’s eyes slipped closed as Haru’s fingers came up to lightly brush over the hand Makoto had at Haru’s abdomen. “I heard Victor say it when he got on the phone to cancel my Aeroflot flight.” He smiled against Haru’s hair then. “But right now, this isn’t so bad, is it, Haru.” His smile widened slightly when he heard the noncommittal sound that meant Haru agreed but wouldn’t out and out say it, and he pressed a kiss to the back of Haru’s head, swallowing softly when, as his eyes closed, Haru tucked himself back closer into his body. 

Now that he’d warmed and they’d stopped talking, Makoto was acutely aware of just how intimately they were laying, of how Haru’s bare skin felt against his own. He did his best to keep his breaths even, to _not_ turn the situation into anything more than what it was, but when he focused on Haru’s breathing in an attempt to regulate his own, he realized that Haru’s had sped as well. Their breaths seemed to fill the room for a moment, and then Haru gently pushed his ass back into the cradle of Makoto’s hips. Makoto’s face flooded with color. There was no way Haru would miss the arousal he’d been fighting just from holding him, and then Haru’s breaths shallowed further, a whisper soft moan leaving Haru’s lips, and he rolled his hips back against Makoto’s dick again. “Haruka,” Makoto rasped in warning, but then Haru nudged Makoto’s fingers down just enough to where Makoto could feel the press of Haru’s cock head through Haru’s boxers; with a strangled groan Makoto stroked a finger over it, then slid his hand up Haru’s torso to his chin and turned Haru’s face toward him to kiss him. 

As soon as their lips met, Haru pulled away, but only long enough to turn in Makoto’s arms before crushing his lips to Makoto’s again. Sweeping his tongue into the heat of Haru’s mouth, greedily licking over every surface, Makoto ran his hand from the small of Haru’s back to the nape of his neck and then down to his ass, his dick swelling harder as he palmed over and then groped the firm roundness. Haru softly moaned into his mouth then stroked his tongue over Makoto’s, hand sliding between them to palm and then squeeze Makoto’s erection. Makoto pushed into his hand, gasping into Haru’s mouth and then, sliding his hand from Haru’s ass to the blankets, he rocked forward, putting Haru onto his back as he shifted to hover over him and then roll his hips down. 

Haru gasped hard enough to break the kiss and Makoto froze, worry filtering through him, He opened his eyes, lips parting for apology, and then his breath caught in turn. He’d never seen Haru’s eyes so dark before or an emotion as blatant as his want; holding that gaze, Makoto arced his hips down again and, when Haru’s eyes fluttered closed with another groan as his head fell back, Makoto took the invitation, dipping his head to kiss and lick at his neck as he slowly rutted against him. “Haruka,” he breathed against Haru’s ear; Haru shivered and rocked up against him, gasped his name as Makoto lightly bit at his lobe and then he pushed up against him again. “What does my Haru-chan want, hm?” Makoto asked breathlessly, pausing to lick the shell of Haru’s ear. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it.” He pulled away then, chuckled breathlessly as he swallowed and just nuzzled Haru’s neck. “But if you want me to sto—” 

Makoto’s eyes went wide when, abruptly, he found himself on his back. “Don’t you dare,” Haru muttered before crushing their mouths together again, and Makoto lowly groaned into the kiss, hands finding Haru’s hips as Haru lithely shifted to straddle him. Haru broke the kiss this time, and Makoto’s eyes fell closed, Haru’s name leaving his lips in a breath as Haru licked and sucked at the divot in his throat and rolled down against him. After several seconds, Haru returned to his mouth and, hands skating up and then down Haru’s sides, Makoto slid them in to cup and grope at his ass again. Haru’s breath caught in their kiss and he rolled up, shifting his ass against Makoto’s hold; slitting his eyes open, Makoto watched as Haru pushed back against his fingers before rolling his hips down to grind his cock again. 

This time when Haru rocked up, Makoto pushed lightly against his crack, and his dick softly lurched as Haru groaned. “Haru,” he breathed and then he shifted his hands so that he could slide one down the back of Haru’s boxers, teased a finger along the space between Haru’s ass cheeks. Haru left his mouth to bury his face against Makoto’s neck and push into the touch; Makoto swallowed hard and moistened his lips. “Does Haruka want me in him?” he lowly asked against Haru’s ear as he slid his finger deeper and then forward to find Haru’s hole, and then he cried out softly, hips arching up to push against Haru’s again when Haru’s teeth sharply nipped at his collarbone. “Haru!” 

“Don’t ask dumb questions,” Haru chastised, cutting off Makoto’s resulting laugh with his mouth. “Fuck me or I’m getting back under the covers before I get cold.” 

The amused apology that had risen to Makoto’s lips was silenced by Haru’s ultimatum and his breath caught sharply with the force of the want that slammed through him. Sliding his hand from Haru’s hip to his hair, Makoto tangled his fingers in it then brought their mouths together for a hard, hungry kiss. He’d never expected their first time to be like this; he’d pictured something soft and romantic instead. But he could never say no to Haru, nor could he deny the way the almost primal situation added a sharpness to his want and need, one that he saw reflected in Haru’s eyes when he pulled back with a long, sensual tug to Haru’s lower lip. “I’ll fuck you, I think,” he murmured before kissing him hard again and shifting them so that Haru was back on the blankets. “Roll over for me, Haru, and I’ll be right back. It’ll be easier for you our first time,” he said to Haru’s silent question, and after a second’s thought, he got up, barely noticing the cold as he crossed over to his coat to get the small bottle of hand lotion he always carried with his lip balm and tissues. 

As Makoto turned back toward the pallet, his mouth went dry again. Haru had taken off his boxers and had done as he’d asked, and god the way the fire played over him from head to toe, he looked almost ethereal. “Haruka is beautiful,” Makoto murmured as he stripped off his boxer briefs and, once he’d settled beside Haru again, Makoto leaned over him, brushed his fingers through the hair at Haru’s nape, then started laying a line of slow, open-mouthed kisses across his shoulder. 

“Ma—koto,” 

The stutter Haru gave as Makoto nipped at that earlobe shot clear to Makoto’s dick; gripping the bottle of lotion tighter and willing it to warm, he softly tugged at the bit of flesh then shifted again, kissing and licking his way down Haru’s spine and then nuzzling at his tailbone before moving his mouth to Haruka’s left ass cheek to treat it to the same as he stroked a finger into Haru’s crack again. Haru lowly moaned at the touch and arched his hips into it and, breath catching at the wanton display, Makoto returned to Haru’s ear. “Get up on your knees, Haruka, and make room for me.” 

“Makoto, fuck.” Breaths speeding, Makoto rocked back onto his calves, stroked along Haru’s flank as Haru pushed up and parted his legs. Crossing over the closest, Makoto settled between them, and his dick started leaking at the sight Haru made, pert ass in the air, hole exposed. For a moment, Makoto had to close his eyes; he’d wanted this for so long that it almost didn’t seem real. “Makoto?” 

“Haru, sorry,” he murmured after a soft, shaky exhale and then he popped the lotion’s cap; pressed a kiss to Haru’s ass cheek as he brought a coated finger to Haru’s hole. Breaths coming short and fast, he pushed against it, and then he gasped Haru’s name in worry when, with a throaty groan, Haru pushed back to take it. 

“Makoto, more.” 

“Haru!”

“Makoto isn’t the only one who’s been learning while we waited.” 

Makoto’s world imploded with the implication of those words and he dropped his head onto Haru’s hip. “Fuck, Haru!” he blurted and then, catching his breath, he curved his finger, eased it out, then stroked over him with two. “How many?” he asked in a voice that didn’t sound like his own as he pushed them past Haru’s hole, his other hand fumbling for the lotion so that he could squeeze a healthy amount onto his dick. 

“Th—ah! Three,” Haru managed after rocking back to meet Makoto’s push. “Makoto is big.” 

“Haru!” Makoto knew that there had been more he’d wanted to ask but, right then, he couldn’t remember any of it; his mind was too hazed by the image of Haru fingering himself as he thought about Makoto, of Haru making himself ready for _him_. “I want to see that,” Makoto breathed as he stroked Haru’s inner walls, fingers parting as they slid out and then pushing deep again. Turning his fingers slightly, he found and rubbed over Haru’s prostrate, swallowing hard as he stroked the lotion onto his dick with his other hand and watched Haru gasp a cry and push his ass back for more. “I want to watch Haruka come getting ready for me.”

“I want to watch Makoto too.” 

Makoto shifted his gaze forward, it drawn by Haru’s husky tenor, and heat spiked through him at the sheer hunger with which Haru was watching him stroke himself. Too aroused to be embarrassed by either of their admissions, Makoto nodded as their eyes briefly met and then he dipped his head; pressed a kiss to Haru’s left ass cheek. The moan Haru gave and the way he arched back when Makoto fingered him deep and stroked his sweet spot again pulled a soft growl from Makoto’s throat as his gut tightened. “Haruka,” he breathed as he stilled his hands, closed his eyes and tried to calm himself, to catch his breath. 

“Makoto, please.” 

Makoto’s eyes came open and shifted forward and he nearly lost it again. Haru, usually so calm and composed, was absolutely wrecked, and Makoto swore it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. For a second or two, he could only stare, and then he swallowed and, slowly easing his fingers out, leaned up over Haru, breath catching in his throat as his dick pushed against Haru’s ass. “Shh,” he murmured against Haru’s ear, “I’ll take care of you.”

Rocking back, taking a breath to try, again, to find some control, Makoto grasped Haru’s hip and, easing him back a bit, put his dick to Haru’s hole. His blood rushed behind his ears as he pushed against it, watched Haru’s body take him in, and then he leaned forward, kissing Haru’s shoulder, and then his neck and his ear. “I love you.” Nuzzling the spot in front of Haru’s ear, he then dropped his head back to Haru’s shoulder, softly groaned as he rolled his hips to push in a bit further before slowly easing out to push in again. After another slow, gentle thrust, Haru rolled his hips back to meet the next and Makoto mouthed over to Haru’s neck, kissing and licking at the spot where his shoulder met it as he let Haru take the last bit of him in at his pace. 

After a moment or two, Haru murmured his name and, kissing Haru’s neck one more time, Makoto straightened and slid his hands to Haru’s hips. Pulling out to his tip, Makoto pushed back in faster, breath catching in a groan when Haru met him. On his next push in, Makoto lightly pivoted his hips and, when Haru gasped his name and clenched around him, Makoto couldn’t hold back any more. Tightening his grip, he fucked into Haru hard and fast, eyes locked on Haru’s face, the pleasure that painted it, as he struck that spot inside again and again. Gut growing tight with Haru’s soft, wanton sounds and the tight sheath of Haru’s body around him, Makoto shifted a hand from Haru’s hip to his dick, and he was so hot and hard and slick that it put Makoto instantly to that edge. “Haru.” Makoto swallowed, rhythm faltering slightly, and then he found it again, thrusting into Haru a couple more times as he stroked. Haru’s eyes flared wide as he gave a soft cry and clenched tight around him. “Haruka,” he managed on a broken breath as Haru’s come spilled over his fist and, with a final drive in, Makoto held Haru back against him tight, hips jerking against Haru’s ass as he found his release. 

A long moment later, Makoto felt Haru go slightly lax in his grip. Eyes opening and shifting to Haru’s face, Makoto sighed softly in relief, warming through in a totally different way at Haru’s beautiful, blissed out expression. Easing himself out, he gently guided Haru to the blankets and then shifted to lay beside him, pulling Haru as close as he could when Haru rolled back up onto his side and pushed into him. “Haruka is amazing,” he murmured into Haru’s hair above his ear.

Haru lifted his head slightly to seek out Makoto’s mouth and Makoto gave it to him, softly hummed into the lazy kiss. “Makoto is too,” he murmured when they parted. Haru opened his eyes. “I love you.” 

Makoto smiled. “I love Haru-chan, too.” He dipped his head toward Haru’s mouth again, and then jumped back with a startled gasp as Haru jerked in his arms when a loud thud caused the entire structure to shake. After a second or two, Makoto released his breath and, murmuring for Haru to stay there, he grabbed one of the lights and got up. Gooseflesh instantly broke over his body once he was away from Haru’s warmth and the covers and he shivered slightly as he scanned the light over the ceiling and far wall. “I think we’re still okay,” he said quietly as he turned back toward the fire and Haru and then, after adding what he dared of the remaining wood and stoking it the best he could for the night, he got back under the blankets, doing his best to swallow down his renewed worry.

“Roll over, Makoto,” Haru said softly after glancing into his eyes and, coloring slightly, Makoto did, his eyes falling shut as Haru spooned him and slipped an arm around his waist. “It will be okay,” he said firmly. “We’re together. And we’ve always taken care of each other. So don’t worry, and try to sleep.” 

Makoto smiled a bit, Haru’s words and how he’d known what Makoto had needed the most doing as much to warm him as the contact and blankets. “Mm,” he gave with a nod, and he brought a hand up to lightly take the one resting on his abdomen. “Good night, Haru-chan. I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

Even with the comfort Haru was offering, Makoto didn’t think he’d ever fall asleep. At some point, however, he did—at least, until the cold got to where it woke him up again. It wasn’t his body, just his nose more or less and, as he blinked his eyes open and woke more consciously, he couldn’t help but give a sleepy chuckle. Haru was completely wrapped around him, their legs intertwined; Haru’s cheek was pressed against his chest, and with his hair mussed how it was and the slight part to his lips, Makoto didn’t think Haru had ever looked cuter. Loathe to wake him, but knowing he had to, Makoto gently called his name, then repeated it a bit louder as he stroked a finger over Haru’s visible cheek. “I need to get up, Haru-chan.”

“Time’s it?” 

“Dunno. Early morning, I’d guess, from the grey.”

“Ungh.” 

Makoto softly laughed when Haru burrowed in closer, and then he kissed the top of Haru’s head. “Just let me up long enough to try and restart the fire?”

“No. You’ll be all cold when you come back.”

“Haru…” 

Haru sighed. Heavily. “Fine.” He pushed away and sat up, then he quickly stood up so that he could grab the top blanket and wrap it around himself. 

“Haru!” Makoto stood as well, grabbing the next blanket down. “Get back under the covers, Haru. It’s silly for both of us to freeze!” he declared through slightly chattering teeth as he wrapped himself up. “Haruka.” Haru snapped his jaw shut and, rolling his eyes, he laid back down again without a word. 

Makoto afforded him a brief smirk, but then sobered as he turned his attention to the fire. Lightly holding his breath, he poked around at the large coals and when, after shifting one, he caught a faint glow of red, he softly sighed. “Thank goodness,” he murmured and, finagling the blanket the best he could so it wouldn’t keep slipping off him, he carefully coaxed the fire back to life again with another magazine and what was left of the kindling and pressboard from the night before, before adding the last few pieces of wood. 

Once it was going, he stood again and went over to their clothes. His nose wrinkled slightly. They were mostly dry, but pretty disgusting all told; nonetheless, he grabbed them, and then snatched up the Doritos and bottle of water and took it all over to the pallet. “I know,” he said quietly when he saw Haru’s moue of disgust. “But we have to eat something and the soup sounds worse than the chips.” Setting everything down by Haru’s head, Makoto slid under the blankets again and rolled onto his stomach, gave Haru what he hoped was an encouraging smile as he took the Doritos again. “We’ll eat while the fire takes some of the chill off, then I’ll get dressed and go look for more wood.” 

Makoto’s smile widened slightly when Haruka wordlessly rolled over as well and he tore open the bag of chips. “Ugh,” he muttered as the scent came up from it, but he took one, then offered them to Haru. “They’re not as bad as I thought I’d remembered,” he admitted a few seconds later. A slight smirk briefly showed. “Either that or I’m just that hungry. I still think the cheese stuff is suspect, though.” 

“Best not to think about it,” Haru said dryly as he fished another chip from the bag.

Makoto grimaced softly as he took another himself. “No, probably not.” 

Half through the bag, Makoto’d had all that he could stomach and, after taking a swallow of water, he sat up to try and find his underwear. He’d just reached over for them when he caught an odd sound from outside and, brow furrowing slightly, he strained his ear to listen better as he got up to put them on. He relaxed a bit when he heard a dog bark, but then he heard voices right after and, heart racing slightly, he bent and snagged his jeans, that anxiety growing stronger as the voices got closer. Two males, it sounded like and, when he heard them open the door into the foyer, he took the few steps to grab the fire poker and then put himself between the door and Haru. 

“… broke the shelf off!” Makoto’s heart pounded faster at the petulant tone; it must be the owners he thought, and he wildly wondered if he was going to end up detained in some cold jail cell somewhere in a foreign country for breaking and entering and damaging property. “I wonder what else they’ve destroyed!” 

“Whatever they did, Leroy, I’m sure it was merely to keep themselves from freezing to death over your supposed mishap. _Derevyanshka!_ ” 

“Victor!” 

“Victor!” Makoto breathed in disbelief at the same time Yuri’s reproachful call came, and then he called out more loudly, “Victor!” 

“Makoto, yes, we’re here!”

“…honest mistake. Thank you, Yuri, for forgiving it.” 

“I didn’t say that,” Yuri said sweetly. “I merely think that Victor should insult you for your stupidity using a word that you might understand.” 

Makoto laughed as Victor’s rang out, Victor’s delight in Yuri’s snark blatantly evident. The door handle started to turn then, and Makoto quickly sobered. “Wait! We’re not dressed!” he blurted before he thought, and then Victor laughed again, and Makoto’s face got hot. 

“Victor!” Yuri reprimanded sharply this time, and then there was silence, and Makoto softly laughed again. “Go on then, Makoto-kun. Let us know when you and Nanase-san are ready!” 

“You can probably put that down now, hm?” Makoto turned to look at Haru as Haru’s hand landed on the arm that still held the poker. 

Makoto blinked, then gave him a sheepish smile and nodded as he dropped it to the ground. Haru stepped into him then, tugged his head down as his eyes went wide with surprise, and then they slid shut when Haru took his mouth in a slow, deep kiss. “Haru,” he murmured against those lips when they parted a long moment after. 

“Thank you.” 

“For?” Makoto asked as Haru dropped his arms and stepped away to finish get dressed, brow furrowing slightly when Haru shrugged as he did up his pants. “Haruka?” 

A hint of color rose on Haru’s cheeks as he snagged up his shirt. “Makoto is confident and brave, but I’m glad Makoto is still Makoto, too.” 

_Thank you for taking care of me, but for still needing me, too_. 

Makoto’s eyes softened and, quickly tugging his shirt on, he stepped over to Haru. “I’ll always need Haruka,” he said softly as he brought Haru’s gaze up to his own. “I can’t be complete without him.” 

“Makoto!” 

Makoto stopped just short of Haru’s lips with Victor’s call, chuckled under his breath, and then pressed a short, hard kiss to them. “Yes, yes, we’re fine now,” he called back out as he dropped his hand and stepped away to pick up his socks and shoes. The door opened and Victor came in, followed by Yuri and two men he didn’t know—though he did know that one of them was Leroy. 

“The console! And—and granny’s dowry linens!” 

_Mystery solved_ , Makoto thought wryly, and then his eyes went wide when Leroy spun and narrowed his eyes. “There was wood right outside of the lean-to!” 

“There was also a blizzard.” Makoto’s eyes briefly went wider at Haru’s cold, clipped tone as Haru stepped between Makoto and Leroy. “One we’re lucky to have survived, and only because Makoto did what he had to do.” 

“I can’t control the weather!” 

“Leroy!” Victor warned in a tone similar to Haru’s as Haru took a step forward.

Leroy took a step back. 

“Haru,” Makoto pled. “Just let it—” 

“No.” Haru turned his gaze back to Leroy. “I don’t know if it was some stupid mistake or a petty strike over SAIP giving the interview to us, but we went through that hell because of him and I won’t let him make you feel guilty or apologize for it!” 

“Ah hah hah…” Everyone’s gazes snapped to the man that had come in with Leroy. “I can clarify that.” He slid a hand into his pocket and pulled out an envelope; Makoto’s brow furrowed as the stranger handed it to him, and then his eyes went wide again when he looked at the front of it. 

“Makoto?” 

His expression still one of disbelief, he handed the envelope to Haru. 

“M A Kato.”

“Mark Allen,” the stranger elaborated. He gave a slight smile. “I was quite surprised when I found reservation papers for the Super-8 downtown instead of directions to JJ’s property. I’ve been looking for a getaway outside Toronto and when this one came up on a discount if the signer took it _as is_ …” He shrugged. 

“You put them in a _Super-8_?” 

Victor’s tone was one of utmost outrage and Makoto and Yuri both sighed; they looked at each other and grinned weakly when they realized it. 

“What?” Haru asked when he saw it and, after taking a moment to properly introduce Haru and Yuri, Makoto smiled, part amused and part affectionate. 

“Just, Victor being Victor, we’ll likely end up in a five-star for our stay and then a first-class flight home.” Haru’s eyes widened and Makoto laughed. “I know,” he replied to the silent surprise. “But Victor’s just… very generous.” 

Yuri snorted a laugh and Makoto and Haru looked over at him. “It’s alright, Makoto-kun. You can say that he’s extra.” 

“Yuri-san!” Makoto laughed, though he sobered and turned toward Leroy when Leroy came up to him. A slight smile formed and Makoto gave a very shallow bow to acknowledge the overly smarmy apology, the polite gesture promptly fading as Leroy and Kato stepped away, presumably to discuss their business. His lips pressed as he finished doing up his shoes. He knew mistakes happened but, truth told, he didn’t feel a bit bad now for what he’d had to do. Not given what an arrogant jerk Leroy had been. Makoto smiled a little bit then. But Haru had taken care of that for him. _We take care of each other,_ Haru had said, and Makoto chuckled softly to himself. They did; always had. They’d had that balance, that give and take that Victor had cautioned they’d need, all along. 

“Yuri, Makoto, Nanase-san, if you’re ready?” 

Makoto turned slightly, and that affectionate light returned to his eyes as he caught Victor’s profile and charismatic smile. He’d learned what he’d needed by stepping away to Russia for that year, even if it hadn’t been what he’d thought when he’d first left. And he’d come away with two new, and dear, friends, too. “Ready,” he replied and, as he and Haru fell into step behind Victor and Yuri, Makoto lightly caught Haru’s hand and squeezed his fingers with a smile. 

“My mags!”

Makoto shuddered as Leroy’s protest cut through the room. His hands suddenly felt dirty, but he let it go with a quiet sigh as Haru squeezed his fingers in turn, the gesture firm, reassuring. Hands could be washed. He’d done what he’d needed to. 

A good three inches of snow had blown into the foyer from the broken window, and as Makoto’s fingers slipped free so that he could slide by the tree, he idly brought one up to touch the wound on his cheek. Another quiet sigh left him. He was glad the interview had been scheduled at the end of the day so that they’d have time to clean up and maybe get a nap before getting ready for it—and whatever ridiculously fancy restaurant he was sure Victor had lined up for after, he thought in amusement as he stepped outside after the others. 

After the dimness of the cabin, even the early morning light seemed bright and, for a moment, all Makoto saw was white through his squinted eyes. They adjusted after a couple of blinks though, and then Makoto smiled. It had been scary, and frustrating, but the aftereffects were breathtaking, he thought as he came down the steps—and then he nearly ran into Haru as he stopped short in front of him. 

“Ha—oh!” Makoto gaped as he saw what had made Haru stop, and then he blinked, _hard_ , to make sure he wasn’t imagining things, but the dogsled and several large dogs of assorted breeds were still there when he opened his eyes; unable to make his mouth work, he turned his gaze to Victor and Yuri. 

“As I said, extra,” Yuri said wryly, but there was a softness to Yuri’s eyes, too, as his gaze followed a _very_ exuberant Victor over to the contraption—and then suddenly, Makoto had to laugh. “He’s like you with your mascots, Haru-chan,” he explained to Haru’s silent question, and he laughed again when Haru rolled his eyes. “Come on.” He took Haru’s hand and they headed over, only to stop in again when he saw that their luggage had already been loaded onto the sled. 

“We figured you must have gotten stuck or you would have at least driven until you could get a signal,” Yuri explained when he saw Makoto’s surprise. “We followed the tow truck in; Victor had the driver pull your bags before he left with the car.” 

“And we couldn’t drive the car back out after because?” 

Yuri smiled a bit at Haru. “The roads really are horrible back here. Not quite dogsled horrible,” he admitted wryly. “The Hummer Victor rented sits high and was making it fine. But as soon as we passed the sled rental sign about six kilometers out, I knew we were in trouble.” 

“Because he’s extra.” 

Yuri and Makoto both laughed and Yuri nodded. “But it’s part of his whole, so I won’t complain,” he quietly said as he shifted his gaze forward to watch Victor rub one of the dog’s faces between his gloved hands as he spoke to it. 

“That I understand,” Haru replied with a slight smile and Makoto smiled softly as well as he followed Haru and Yuri over to Victor. He’d wondered what it would be like, this bit of crossover, but it had gone rather seamlessly, all told—Leroy’s idiotic mistake aside. Makoto’s cheeks warmed slightly as he thought about the night before. Then again, even that had turned out well in the end. And, now that they’d gotten through it, he was looking forward to moving forward, with Haru, and to seeing what story life would craft for them next as they walked their path together.


End file.
